Marian

Robin Hood fanfic, oh no! Sir Hiss hypno-corrupts Maid Marian. Mature.

Prince John had a gallows grip on the gold coins between his fingers. One wrinkle creased his brow just above his snout. His lip curled, just a little. With each breath, an uneven whine left his throat, like a wet log steaming in a hot fire.

Sir Hiss grinned as ingratiatingly as he could.

"Sssire, you've counted that gold twice already. I think it'sss time sssomeone went to bed," he said.

Prince John didn't look at him. Hiss peeled back the corners of his mouth harder.

"Come now, sssir, you need your beauty sssleep," Hiss said.

Hiss's tail draped across the line of gold rings that Prince John held. He hooked the coins against his tail and tugged. Prince John held on tightly. His mouth stayed closed, though his lip had started to wobble.

Hiss had hoped the prince would have taken rejection better, but there was nothing the lion reacted to pleasantly.

The Snow-Black Fortress

Instead of studying barbarians, a fantasy anthropologist winds up joining them instead. Explicit.

Footsteps dented the snow without any feet to make them. The falling snow and gusts of wind would cover them up within minutes, and then there would be no sign that anyone had been there.

Edward paused, and the footsteps stood still. He crouched down, digging two gloved fingers into the snow and putting a clump of it onto his tongue. He was loath to chill himself any more than he already was, but he'd read in a book that it kept your breath from fogging up.

Ahead of Edward loomed the fortress, built out of greying stone, perched on the side of a mountain. Behind him was the less perilous peak he'd climbed. And beneath him, beyond the thick stone bridge, were thousands of feet of nothingness down to a rocky cleft between the two peaks.. Edward's heart hammered in his chest.

The tracks began to move again, dotting the snow with dark spots where the gray-black flagstones showed through. Edward grabbed the edges of his cloak and pulled them closer together against the cold. On his chest, sitting above his traveling robe, was an unevenly round disc of lead. Stamped on it in a puffy, bulbous way was the image of a half-closed eye.

Done to Taste

An interdimensional being walks into a chocolate shop and turns an employee into a living chocolate servant. Explicit.

Daniel's bad day began with a nude tigress. He didn't have any problems with nude bodies in general, and certainly not with this nude body in specific. The problem was that she was in the middle of his chocolate shop.

In a self-conscious way, she made him even more aware of the clothes he was wearing. His jeans were thick against his legs and the worn denim hung down with room to spare. The corners of his tee shirt's sleeves tugged at his armpits; it was slightly too small, but worth it for the 'chocolatiers do it with kisses' shirt. Then on top of that was the white apron, to keep from smudging any warm chocolate on his clothes.

Daniel set down the caramels that had been cooling in the back. She must have come in when he'd gone back to get them so he could put them on display. Clearing his throat, he left the counter and found the tigress wandering down one of the aisles.

Redder Than Gold

A wolf enjoys his Argentinian vacation once the music turns him into a colorful vixen. Mature.

He put his feet on the dance floor and the trumpets flared against the beat.

Roland had stumbled through his second day in Buenos Aires with half-remembered high school Spanish and the clothes that he'd taken in his carry-on bag.

The percussion stomped along and he lifted his feet. He drew deeper into the crowd.

Roland had spent the entire day on his feet between trying to walk to museums and trying to get his lost suitcase back from the airport.

There were people dancing all around him now. He couldn't turn back.

The Hyena in the Honeymoon

Dick and Janet have some car trouble, so they stop for help at a mad scientist's home. Explicit.

Janice reached out one paw and switched off the radio. The inside of the car was starting to smell like radiator fluid.

"Are you all right, honey?"

Dick grasped his forehead where a bump was slowly rising against his fingers. "I'm fine—Jesus, that was some kick," he said.

Dick opened the door, climbed out of the driver's seat and popped open the hood of his car to be greeted with a plume of smoke. The tiger stepped back, eyes closed, coughing.

"Looks like the radiator blew. I could fix it, but I'd need some tools."

Janice climbed out of the car and Dick took just a moment to soak her in, lit up by the headlights. From her silky dark bob to her polka dot dress to her frankly fantastic legs, all of the beautiful skunk was his to have and to hold: his brand new wife.

"What are we going to do? We're in the middle of nowhere," Janice said.

Fight the Beast

Thrown into the arena, a young lion grows into a tough, brutish gladiator. Explicit.

A blade flowed down with a flourish along the way, aimed directly at him. Milon stumbled back. Cheers clapped his ears, sand twisted his feet, and sun shot through his eyes.

The next stroke was hidden in the glare of the sun. Up, across, stinging, bringing him to his knees. He clutched at his chest. His hands were red. His fur was red. The gash running from his breast to his stomach ached with every motion he made, ached with a pain that was dull and deep, hot and stinging, sticky and trembling and too imperfect to be a dream.

The tip of a sword pointed at his face. The cheers subsided, then roared even more fiercely. Milon's eyes were rooted to the blade. A drop of blood wobbled on the end. He stood still, staring into his life cut into two by the sword.